


A Small Ray of Light

by MoonlightVampiress



Series: Feelings [1]
Category: Super Junior, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightVampiress/pseuds/MoonlightVampiress
Summary: Min Yoongi, also known as Suga of BTS, smiled at his friends and waved to the crowd of onlookers.  He was supposed to be happy, right?  If that was the case, then why was he here, alone, in this room, and trying his hardest not to cry.   Yesung heard the crying and he understood.   He understood everything.(Read the A/N before continuing)





	A Small Ray of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Please Read BEFORE Continuing the Story
> 
> There are a couple of things I would like to point out before people start reading this story.  
> The topic of this story is: DEPRESSION  
> There will be:  
> Slight M/M, Harsh Thoughts, Talks of Disappearing, Talks of Being Alone, and so on.   
> This story is not reflective of anyone's actual feelings on the things that show up. It is simply a work of fiction.  
> This story is the first in my 'feelings' series.   
> If you feel as though any of that will offend you, I would ask that you please exit out of the story now.
> 
> Thank you,  
> Moonlight Vampiress

“And the winner is…. BTS!” 

 

The members of the group all rose together with smiles on their features.  They waved to everyone watching, the other groups, the fans, the people watching at home, everyone.  As their leader gave his speech, Suga stood there with a look between pleased and like he was tired of being there, but that wasn’t how he felt on the inside.  

 

His thoughts were a mess and he could feel them like insects crawling beneath his skin.  Everyone was cheering and yet he was screaming and begging to be able to run away.  No one understood, and they seemed to believe him when he said everything was fine.   It wasn’t fine.  Why couldn’t anyone truly see that?

 

They went back to their seats and he sat there watching as Taehyung seemed to dance and sing along with every performance.  When did he even have the time to learn everyone else’s songs in addition to their own?  Suga continued to sit up and pay attention to each performance, especially since he knew that the cameras were rolling.  He knew that there would be fans recording him, and those just waiting to see ‘BTS’ reaction to EXO or GOT7 or Seventeen or anyone else’.   

 

He did his best to keep his face as neutral as possible.  One wrong look and the more immature fans would start up fanwars and saying stupid shit like ‘well obviously this band sucks because my bias is Suga and he didn’t like it’.   Honestly, those types of comments annoyed him more than anything else.  Yes, they were popular, but there were countless groups that came before them and still made really good music.  There were countless groups that debuted with them and still made good music.  There were even more debuting and they were making decent music. 

 

What did they know?  All the fans knew was that they liked the music that BTS produced and, for  some of them, that they were basically pieces of meat with feelings that they could pretend to connect to.   The thought just started making him even more depressed as he continued to think about all the things in their lives.  

 

Outwardly, his face remained neutral, but his mind wouldn’t stop attacking him.   Fame was fickle and fans were always ready to move on to the next big thing, to follow the next biggest trend, and to claim some sort of bragging rights because of whom they liked.  What would happen when it was their turn?  All of this would go away and then he’d have more time to think.

 

This is what he hated about award shows.  The need to smile, laugh, dance, perform, and all for people who wouldn’t care once this had all gone away.  The fans just liked their music and what their record label told them to say to keep them interested.  No one would like to hear this, but as idols they were essentially prostitutes and the fans were their ‘johns’.   They were essentially at the whim of ‘sugar mamas’ and ‘sugar daddies’ who wanted them to perform like trained monkeys and pretended to care. 

 

Long nights, training in dance, in personas, were all for the benefit of their ‘pimps’ so that they would be good looking workers to sell.   Dietary restrictions, health problems, weary bones and limbs and yet it could all be thrown away the moment that they are in a relationship, wore a particular hairstyle, or said the wrong thing.   Not only were they supposed to know everything needed to survive in this industry in Korea, but internationally as well because people never saw them as human.  Hate comments start flowing in immediately and while he could spit rhymes against those haters, it didn’t mean that they didn’t get to him. 

 

It didn’t mean that they couldn’t slice into his flesh and leave their darkened marks on his soul.  It didn’t mean any of that. 

 

He couldn’t even express this to his fans, those people who claim to care about the image they are presented with, who claim to love him…  He couldn’t express how much it hurt or brought him down because they didn’t know. 

 

All he’d be presented with was syrupy sweet smiles filled with fake sympathy, stories of similar trials that didn’t quite reach the depths of his feelings, and legions of fans who would be willing to speak against the haters.  Ha.  They would do that while, at the same time, putting some of the other groups down because they did something wrong.   They’d preach their loyalty to him, while making others fall into the same depths of despair that he was currently trapped in.  It would just keep adding pressure that he was barely stopping himself from drowning in. 

 

Suga was brought back to the present by Jimin lightly nudging his arm.  He nodded and followed them out of the building as the award show was now over.  Apparently, there were other idols staying in the same hotel as them and a couple of them had invited them to an after party.  The hotel was already filled with heavier security, thankfully, and so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if they let loose.  The only rule:  No pictures in the party.  

The rule was fair and it wasn’t like he wanted to go taking lots of pictures anyway.  His bandmates were walking ahead of him a bit and talking excitedly about seeing their friends and other idols, but he wasn’t anywhere near as excited.   The moment that they entered their room to shower and change was the moment that Suga finally became Yoongi again.   He stood under the shower and felt a few tears prickling at his eyes. 

 

Those same tears that started to mix into the water as he wished could simply disappear.  When he heard Jin knocking on the door for him to hurry up, he switched the water off and dried his face.  One drop, two drops, and now his red eyes were cleared and no one would ever know he was crying.  He walked out with an annoyed look on his face as the ‘princess’ decided to go and get ready. 

 

It was probably less than thirty minutes later that he was dragged into the elevator and taken to a higher floor, but Yoongi knew the moment that they arrived by the somewhat loud music and scents of food, alcohol, and something else.   Walking into the room, there was one moment of BTS and then everyone scattered to go and find their friends to chat.  For Yoongi, he went and found the drink that was most certainly water, and moved to stand away in the corner away from everyone. 

 

This was another thing that he hated.  It wasn’t that he didn’t know many of his peers, but that he didn’t handle these situations well.  He wasn’t sure what Namjoon and Jackson were animatedly talking about or why Jungkook was hanging off of Yugyeom, but he felt extremely small.  It wasn’t much of a realization to come to that he could leave this very room and no one would pay attention to the fact that he was missing.  In fact, their first responses would probably be something along the lines of him being in the bathroom or lost among the sea of bodies. 

 

The same prickly feeling started in his eyes and Yoongi quickly slipped through the bodies and out the door, unnoticed, just like he thought would happen.  He was gasping silently as he walked down the hall and managed to find an open storeroom.  As for why it was open, his guess was that someone came in here to grab something for the party and never shut it.  None of it mattered right now as he sat down and held his knees. 

 

Deep, shaky breaths left his lips before the dam broke once again and tears fell from his eyes.  His thoughts were a jumbled mess and he hated it.  On stage, he could try not to think and immerse himself in being ‘Suga’.  It wasn’t necessarily a  fake  personality, but more like him with barriers up to stop people from getting in.  He was still himself, but not expressive though the fans seemed to like that aspect. 

 

Until you get too old…

 

Yoongi gasped in another breath as he heard those words in his head, in different voices, in different languages, and yet the meaning was the same.  Pretty soon, the newest group of young fans would be explaining how he was too old and needed to retire.  It wasn’t the thought of the group breaking up that bothered him, but the thought that once more, he wouldn’t have a distraction for these thoughts.

 

What was going to stop him then?  What was truly to stop him from falling, crashing, and burning?  What was going to stop him from slipping into isolation, nearly fearful of the world, and causing even worsening depression?  What-

 

Before he could complete his next thought, he heard a noise.  Startled, he glanced up to see Kim Jong-hoon, Yesung, from the senior group, Super Junior had come in the room.  Yoongi bit his lip wondering if he was about to get scolded for leaving the party and possibly worrying everyone, but Yesung just seemed to look around for a second before seeing a box.  As he went over to it, Yoongi couldn’t help but wonder if he was invisible even when he was right in front of someone. 

 

Yoongi started to put his head down wanting to continue his sobbing, but silently as not to disturb the elder, before he felt hands on his knees.  His lips parted as to speak, but before he could Yesung put his finger to Yoongi’s lips.  The older male tilted his head with strands of his longer, black hair falling into his face before a soft smile appeared. 

 

“I know.”

 

Those two words seemed to break the dam once more.  Even without describing it or discussing it, Yoongi felt like Yesung knew exactly how he felt.  He should be embarrassed crying in front of his elder, but he didn’t care.  Rather than tell him not to cry, Yesung was just simply letting him cry it out and Yoongi couldn’t have been more thankful.  

 

A few moments had passed as his tears and sobs started to subside.  Soft fingers gently tilted his head up and then wiped his face with tissues from the box that Yesung had grabbed earlier.  There were no words exchanged while his face was gently cleaned off, nor when Yesung moved to run his fingers through and fix Yoongi’s hair a bit. 

 

Then… “How do you feel now?” 

 

Yoongi blinked a few times as he sincerely thought it over.  His thoughts were as clear as the night sky right now and he didn’t feel as sad as he had only moments ago.  “I… Better.  How did you know?” he asked even though in the previous moment he had known Yesung understood.  He wanted to hear it, a piece of a story that would further confirm in his mind that he wasn’t alone. 

 

Yesung looked at the floor as he pressed his lips together in an almost thin smile.  The calm, yet faraway expression on Yesung’s face had made the younger of the two wish to take back his questions, but he never got the chance to do as such.   “I used to be you.” he said as his eyes opened up and looked into Yoongi’s.  “I don’t mean I was a talented rapper.   I’m pretty sure I would be awkward trying, but that I know how crushing that feeling is.  You want to escape somewhere and cry, but usually you can’t, because you are always busy.  The fans are demanding and selfish, but you can’t say that as much as you want to scream it from the rooftops.  It isn’t like they would see themselves that way.” he said with a sigh.

 

“No matter what you do, it is never good enough for someone else and rarely is it ever good enough for yourself.   Your confidence is torn to literal shreds and you are screaming for help but all you get is fake smiles as you are pushed from one event to the next without much rest.  You have to be perfect and remain in a bubble or else you begin to lose fans because their own bubbles break.  There is so much pressure that it is suffocating and yet you are told to get over your fears because the public awaits.”  Yesung whispered that last part, but Yoongi heard every word as though he screamed it out loud.

 

“Does… Does it ever get better?” Yoongi asked as he continued to look at him. 

 

Yesung was the one to break their eye contact as he shook his head.  “No.  We tell people we have battled and won against depression, but what they don’t realize is that it doesn’t simply disappear.  It isn’t easily cured with a pill or simply doing what we love.  I love to sing, but the depression, it is still there.   We can control it through small actions, but it creeps back in like a spider and builds its web blocking out what little light we can see.  I want to tell you that it goes away, but I don’t think you’re the type of appreciate someone lying point blank to your face.”

 

Silence stretched for a few minutes after that statement and Yoongi was slowly started to slip into his own mind once more.  There was no escape.  He appreciated that his senior was being honest with him, but it made him question whether or not he should have gotten caught up in music.  In this world, privacy is a thing of the past and everything is criticized to the point that the art of music is lost. 

 

Yesung moved and lightly tapped Yoongi on the nose.  “Stop.  For right now, let it all go.  Just take a few deep breaths and center yourself.” he told him as he made the younger male focus on him instead of the thoughts eating away at his mind.

 

“How do you do it?”   Yoongi needed advice.  He wanted to learn to control this feeling and maybe to control when he allows it to consume him. 

 

Yoongi watched as Yesung closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath.  He was confused as he wondered if  Yesung was simply showing him how to calm down or if he was trying to collect his thoughts before speaking.  As he waited, he took in Yesung’s features.  His senior was attractive with soft looking facial features that he was sure Super Junior’s fans adored. It wasn’t an in your face attractiveness, but instead a sort of quiet, mysterious, and alluring type of attractiveness.  In a way, it was comforting and he could see how one would love to get lost in the elder singer’s presence. 

 

The moment that Yoongi had this thought cross his mind, he froze with his gaze fixed on Yesung’s face.  He wasn’t into the same sex as far as he knew, but this didn’t feel like the attractions of someone who was focusing on another person’s gender.   These thoughts weren’t of someone suddenly having an epiphany of shocking proportions, but instead, it was the attraction to someone who understood. 

 

In front of him was a man, from a popular group in the second generation of kpop idols, who could have simply looked at him like an annoyance and ignored him.   In front of him was a man who did not have all the answers, but someone who used to be like him… who was still like him.   Why hadn’t he seen it before?  The barely covered dark circles, the advice tinged with the same hopelessness that he was only too familiar with, and the continued silence as he searched for an answer to his question. 

 

There was no answer. 

 

Yoongi realized that Yesung was probably trying to figure out the best way to word his next line, the unspoken line, the  I can’t  that hadn’t yet fallen from his lips.  Rather than wait for a response wrapped in realism with a candy coating, Yoongi simply changed his question.  It was a question that he now felt needed to be asked.  “Yesung, when did you notice me?”

 

Dark eyes opened as though confused by the question before they softened with a small smile gracing the elder’s lips.  He knew that Yoongi wasn’t asking the question in the way you’d expect the female lead of a romantic drama to ask, but instead as an indirect confirmation.   Yesung also knew that he wasn’t speaking of any night, but tonight considering that rather than his own bandmates, it was someone else that came to ensure that he was alright.  “When you came into the party and when you left.” 

 

The younger’s eyes filled with unshed tears, and once again he was sure that Yesung understood. Most people would probably call him weak in this moment, but Yesung just looked at him with the same soft smile and patience that others would have run out of a long time ago.   Without hesitating, Yoongi moved and kissed Yesung softly on the lips. 

 

He should be screaming at himself and reminding himself that he was interested in women or pulling away and blaming it on alcohol that he knew Yesung could tell that he didn’t drink.  In fact, there were a thousand things that he should be doing as Suga of BTS and not kissing another male, but he wasn’t Suga at the moment.  No. 

 

At the moment, he was simply Yoongi.  A young male, who could barely breath under the weight and pressure of his group’s increasing fame, and someone who needed a moment.  One moment to forget all the societal rules, the idol pressures, the deepening pit of anxiety, depression, and the intense desperation to distract and survive.  When he felt Yesung’s hands slide around his waist and deepen the kiss, he made another realization:  Yesung, no Jong-hoon, needed this too. 

 

When the need to actually breath became apparent, he pulled back and looked into the eyes of the elder and secretly hoping that the other didn’t suddenly become like those who criticized his every move.  He watched him as he felt Yesung touch his lips with just his thumb.  “It’s nice when someone understands, isn’t it, Yoongi?”  Yesung didn’t give him a chance to respond and gently connected their lips yet again. 

 

It never moved on from soft, sweet kisses, but Yoongi was fine with that.  His thoughts were for the evening gone and while they would probably return once he was on a plane headed to their next destination, they had no place here now.   He was almost positive that the elder had similar feelings to him.  Tomorrow.  Tomorrow, they could be Suga of BTS and Yesung of Super Junior, but tonight they were simply two people content that they were finally understood. 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So I wanted to clear up what Yesung said about how it never gets better. As I've been trying to help family members with depression and seeing people with depression both in the public and private arenas succumb to depression to the point they lose the will to live, I realize that it doesn't go away. If the circumstances surrounding the depression don't change, then a person is always surrounded by the negativity no matter how many pills they take or how much therapy. I've recently had to help a friend who lost someone who was depressed. They committed suicide and everyone has no idea why. He had been better these past so many years and they thought the depression was cured and he was better... but depression is a battle and when it came back he wasn't able to handle it. 
> 
> While he essentially says, it never gets better, he also says that they learn to control it. I personally feel that way at times. I've learned to control it and keep fighting. There are those that lose that will to fight, but thankfully I haven't. I hope that explains it a bit more. Any other things you want to add or something, then feel free to comment. Thank you.


End file.
